


Flower from the Heavens

by Xr_ox



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Blood and Violence, Quests, Slow Burn, Sylvain is stupid give him a moment, Sylvix Week 2020 (Fire Emblem), Trans Felix Hugo Fraldarius, myths and legends, not between Felix and Sylvain this time, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26648944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xr_ox/pseuds/Xr_ox
Summary: Sylvain has lived a good twenty-five years of freedom before his life gets turned upside down by his father announcing his sudden engagement. But when his bride-to-be invokes her right to the legendary Quest, Sylvain must now take a death defying journey to the tallest peak of the Oghma Mountains to prove his worth. Along the way he hires a sell-sword by the name of Felix and the two of them set off to conquer a mountain.But danger isn’t the only thing the mountain holds for them as they both risk life and limb to reach the summit.Sylvix Week 2020 - Myths and Legends
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Kudos: 11





	Flower from the Heavens

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so glad to finally be posting the beginning of this fic! It's taken a long time to write this and true to form I'm still not finished...
> 
> A few things to know before going in:  
> Seiros never established the church after she killed Nemesis.  
> Lots of things in canon are fudged to line up with how I wanted them to be for this story. 
> 
> Beta read by the lovely: Saph <3 I appreciate you so much! <3

  
  


Part 1

✽------✽------✽

The tavern Sylvain finds himself in is dodgy, to say the least. Even with the sun coming in through the few windows, the grime covering the glass panes stifling and obscuring the light from going much further than a few paces inside. It takes a moment for Sylvain’s eyes to adjust to the drastic change in light, taking the time to stride in a bit further and letting the door swing shut behind him. 

Sylvain has been in a few shady establishments in his wilder youth, some much shadier than even this tavern. A small town like this probably doesn’t see quite the excitement that larger city taverns do and as Sylvain looks a bit closer the dodginess seems to come more from the lack of cleanliness. 

He takes a few more steps in and relaxes slightly when he sees that there are only a few patrons sitting in the back corner, their conversation hushed and relaxed. None of them pay even a parting glance his way and even the lovely tavern maiden bustling the bar didn’t even bother to look up when the front door had opened. With his eyes slowly adjusting to the light, Sylvain can see that she’s fairly pretty. Her brown hair is long and braided with a few loose strands framing her face. Sylvain can see a good bit of her breasts from how she’s leaned over a bit to reach parts of the bar and from how low cut her blouse is. 

He might try his luck and see if he can have some fun with her before he leaves this town. He’ll need a little bit of entertainment before he fully hits the road to take off some of his stress that has been building for the past month. But, for now, he needs to focus on why he’s in this tavern in the first place.

“Hello, beautiful.” He calls out, plastering on his most charming grin as the tavern worker looks up at the unfamiliar voice. Her wide, doe eyes blink at him for a moment and he’s sure he can make out a faint blush to her cheeks at the sight of him. Sylvain steps closer to the bar, letting his eyes trail over her features, making sure to keep his eyes above her neck. “I wasn’t expecting to see such a lovely lady like you in this place! I would have visited this town much sooner, had I known.”

Her eyebrow quirks up at his words and, while she rolls her eyes and gives an unladylike snort, he can tell she’s still somewhat flattered. Or, at least, not too offended by how thick he’s laying it on. She’s definitely not ugly by any means, and most certainly the type he usually chases after. But he has seen prettier and more well-endowed women in his time. And has slept with the majority of them as well.

“Pardon me for not greeting you properly.” She says politely, moving the cloth she’d been using to clean out of the way, tossing it over one of her shoulders to rest there. “We don’t get too many fresh faces around here. You must be thirsty from your travels. Let me get you some ale.”

Her eyes rank over his features and a smile tugs up the sides of her mouth before she turns around to grab a mug. He lets the smile slip from his lips for a moment, already feeling the muscles in his face protesting at how long it’s been since he’s last tried to lay it on thick with a woman. He’s many years out of practice. 

“Very generous of you.” He replies when the woman finally places the filled up tankard in front of him on the bar. He leans against the bar, letting the lip of it dig uncomfortably into his lower stomach and rests his elbows on the surface. Margrave Gautier would beat him senseless to see his son acting without proper manners, but what his father doesn’t know won’t hurt him. “How much for the ale?” He asks, sliding the smile back on as he lifts up the mug by its handle. 

“The first one is on the house.” She replies, returning his smile and solidifies Sylvain's decision to hang around town tonight to try and have some fun with her. “For handsome faces only, of course.” He would hope so, that’d be a terrible business practice otherwise.

“Very generous of you.” He says, lifting the tankard a bit higher in a gesture of thanks before he raises it fully, taking a large gulp. It’s fairly good considering the place it’s been made in and he has to admit he’s pleasantly surprised. Even if tonight ends up with him running out of town for trying to sleep with this woman, if she’s already spoken for, then at least the ale will have been worth it. 

But he’s still got a few more hours of work to do before he’s able to properly settle down and party for the night.

He sets the mug back down on the counter, using the back of his hand to wipe the foam away from his mouth and locks eyes with her. “So, any mercenaries come through here recently?” He asks. “I’m looking to hire someone.” 

The woman purses her lips slightly and gives a soft hum as she tries to think. “Haven’t seen a group of them in a while, but we have a sell-sword hanging around. He isn’t the most friendly sort, but I’m sure if you’ve got the coin he’d do the work. ”

Well, that isn’t exactly the best news... He’s already been around a few other towns and villages hoping to find some mercenaries to hire for his cause. But, unfortunately, he’s running out of time to be picky about who he hires. Sylvain gives his own hum of thought and takes another drink of ale. “This sell-sword any good?” 

“The best.” She answers immediately, taking the rag off her shoulder and setting about cleaning the rest of the bar top again. “Or so I’ve heard.” She adds with a shrug, peering over at him through some loose hair that has fallen over her face. “First day he was here, he got a job taking out the wolves who’d been harassing some livestock around here. He cleared them out by himself and has done a few more odd jobs around town for some folks. But that’s the extent of what I know about him. His camp is in a clearing just west of here.”

“He didn’t rent out a room here?” Sylvain asks in surprise, gesturing to the stairs that have to lead to some guest rooms. It’s a fairly insignificant town, but it’s large enough to have a two story tavern, so they must get fairly decent foot traffic through this area. Or maybe they used to before this place went to shit. Perhaps this sell-sword took one look at the outside of the tavern and decided to camp out instead. Sylvain might have too if he weren’t trying to look for some information, and the best place for that will always be taverns. 

The woman gives a shake of her head. “Most mercenaries come in here to ask about jobs around the village but he’s never set foot in here. Must have just asked around the bazaar for a job. Farmer John said he’s not the most pleasant person, but he got the job done and we haven’t seen those wolves since.”

Sylvain gives another hum but, well, it’s not like he has any more options on finding someone to hire anymore and this man, even with his eccentricity, seems like the best he will be getting. 

He tosses back the rest of the ale and leans away from the bar. “Well... I guess I’m off to go look for him. Thank you for the ale.” He pauses slightly to look her over again, noting her eyes raking over his features, and figures he might as well try his luck. “I’ll be back for the night, so a room would be lovely. And some feminine company for the night, if you’re willing.”

With his eyes fully adjusted to the grim lighting, he can now see her face flush and she ducks her head a bit shyly, bringing up a hand to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. “Well, if it’s my company and a room you want… I can just let you share my room for the night.”

“That’s very kind of you.” Sylvain says with a pleasant grin. He might have not been so active with the ladies as he once was, but sometimes it’s nice to know there’s still something he’s good at. “Beautiful and kind. I am very lucky to have met you today.”

She gives something of a giggle which she must think doesn’t sound as grating to his ears as it does. He likes a lot of things about women, some aspects more physical than others, but he has never understood why some of them giggle so much. 

“Unfortunately,” Sylvain begins before she can say something back to him. “I have some business with this sell-sword first. But, I’ll be back before sundown and then we can spend the whole evening together.” He gives her a wink before he turns around and makes his way once more to the tavern door. He hears her give him a soft goodbye as he pushes the heavy door open. Sylvain sends a wave back out of her and then the door is closing behind him, leaving him back outside and having to let his eyes adjust back to the sunlight.

Now, he’s got a wannabe mercenary to find. 

✽------✽------✽

Sylvain travels west. Past the rest of the buildings in town, across a field of lush grass and flowers, and then, finally, into the forest. He takes Amora, his beautiful pure white mare, with him because he doesn’t quite trust the town’s lackluster stable, if it can even be called as such, enough to keep all the equipment she carries with her safe. Plus, she’s been his only travel companion for almost a full month and traveling without her would feel strange. 

He guides her through the trees and lush foliage, taking the time to enjoy the sounds of her hooves against the ground, the leaves rushing under foot and further away as all sorts of creatures move out of his path. Birds and bugs sing and chirp all around and Sylvain does his best to not be too distracted by the beauty of it all. Sylvain had never been one for nature, but being away from his normal life has let him enjoy the little things he wouldn’t have before. 

At first, taking his time to keep an eye on the details around him had been purely to ensure he wouldn’t get robbed on the road, and then it helped cure the pure boredom of wandering around trying to find anyone he can hire. It’s still springtime in Faerghus but, for some reason, it seems like almost all the mercenary groups had yet to migrate north after the long winter and Sylvain has had no such luck finding anyone until today.

Crossing to the other side of a small stream, Sylvain pulls up the reins to make Amora come to a stop. She obeys, but stamps her feet nervously on the ground and if Sylvain were eye level with her he’s sure her eyes are darting back and forth nervously. Amora is a good mount, has never bucked Sylvain off once in her life, but she’d lived her whole life in the Gautier family's personal stables and, until last month, had never set foot in any patches of dense trees. She might not have been the best mount to journey with, but she’s been fine so far. 

But this is the first time she’s been off trail and Sylvain takes a moment to check for the best place to lead her through to make sure she won’t be cut by the thick patches of bramble he can see growing on this side of the stream. Once he’s found a decent spot, he makes a soft clicking noise and tightens his hold on her reins to lead her over to it. From there it’s easy enough to find the trail that the locals must have made, hopefully the trail that will lead him to this clearing.

The further Sylvain goes along the trail the more he can make out the soft scent of smoke and meat cooking in the air well. The scent reminds him that he’d only had a thin strip of dried salted meat before setting out this morning and his stomach growls in protest. He must be getting closer to the clearing and, possibly, about to interrupt his man’s lunch. Hopefully, if the man decides to take the job, he won’t tack on an extra inconvenience fee.

Sylvain pulls up on Amora’s reins once more, this time sliding himself off of her saddle and onto the ground beside her. It might be in his best interest to come in looking as unassuming as possible and, if things go south and he’s somehow about to wander into some bandits camp, he’s fairly confident that he can surely and safely swing back into Amora’s saddle in haste. 

Grabbing onto Amora’s reins, he leads her forward and this time his own footsteps join in with the sound of hooves striking upon the ground. Amora perks up with him on the ground with her, feeling more at ease since her rider deemed it safe enough to walk alongside her. Her strides become more confident until she’s trotting next to him on the path. Sylvain smirks softly and adjusts his hold on her reins to run his free hand along her soft velvet coat affectionately.

A break in the trees show the first hints of the clearing, one large enough that even if he hadn’t found this trail he would surely have come across some part of it. The scent of smoke is much stronger now, and Sylvain can make out the shape of a tent through the trees. Close enough to still have the cover of the trees but still in the clearing. Sylvain can almost make out the shape of someone crouched over a fire pit but it’s hard to see any features through the trees just yet. 

Sylvain takes care to step on a few branches he’d normally avoid as he continues along the trail. No sense in sneaking up on a man unprovoked. He might not have much experience traveling out here, regardless of the month long journey it’s been already. He’d been very much a city boy before setting off but even he knew that that wouldn’t be his smartest move to startle even a sell-sword. He’d like to not die this early into his trip, if at all possible. 

Stepping into the clearing, Sylvain glances over at the dug in fire pit and finally gets a look at the man that the woman at the tavern had told him about. From the information he’d been given, and his own assumptions about mercenaries and sell-swords, Sylvain had pictured some buff, burly man with multiple facial scars and maybe even an eyepatch for good measure. But his expectations prove to be very wrong.

The man, a little younger than Sylvain, sits crouched before the small fire, rotating a portion of some meat he’s cooking over the embers. He’s smaller built, barely even half the width of Sylvain, and Sylvain is sure that if the man were to stand he’d also be shorter than him as well. His dark, black hair is tied back into a short tail and shines blue in the light. The man is dressed down only to a dark colored high-necked shirt with the sleeves cropped off. It’s an unusual attire to be wearing. Even in spring the majority of the citizens within Faerghus still wear layers to offset the always changing temperature, as suddenly the warmest day can easily change to chilly.

Regardless, this man isn’t what Sylvain had been expecting, and he feels a surge of disappointment because he’s probably once more hit a dead end.

Before Sylvain can even attempt to make his escape, the man finally glances over, his eyes settling more on Sylvain’s face more so than actually meeting his eyes full on. His eyes are an intriguing dark honey color and something in the back of Sylvain’s brain itches with a sense of familiarity but he can’t quite place where he might have seen someone with a similar appearance like this before. There’s certainly quite a number of people with these dark features and pale skin in Faerghus; however, Sylvain only knows about the people who live on the Fraldarius lands, including the Fraldarius nobles themselves. And, well, there’s plentiful reasons why this man cannot possibly be connected to Lord Rodrigue. 

Nevertheless, Sylvain has to admit that he is very attractive. Sylvain had never been put off by his attraction to people, regardless of their gender. But, by far, his attraction to women is much stronger to where he’d only have passing fantasies about certain men he’s come across. For obvious safety reasons - his father might literally kill him - Sylvain has never acted on this attraction he also feels towards men. 

Honey amber eyes narrow at him suspiciously, and Sylvain realizes he’s been standing here taking in the man before him for a bit too long without saying anything. Not the best introduction for sure. Sylvain clears his throat, but before he can speak the sell-sword takes the change for him.

“Can I help you?” He asks, though his voice sounds anything but pleasant. His shoulders are tense and he rolls them forward in a way that almost looks like he’s huddling in on himself. He takes in Sylvain before him, eyes narrowing even further. It makes Sylvain feel… almost exposed in a way he’s not used to. But, instead of feeling defensive, Sylvain finds he’s more intrigued.

Sylvain throws on a simple smile, relaxing his body in hopes that the man will relax if he appears as non threatening as possible. “Are you the sell-sword the towns people were telling me so much about?” Sylvain pauses, waiting for some kind of response. Obviously he is; Sylvain can see two ornate swords lying next to the man and a dagger strapped to his thigh. He’s more armed than any normal traveler would think to be, and Sylvain gets the feeling there’s even some more tucked away on this man that he couldn’t see.

Silence passes between the two of them, filled only with the sounds of the forest and Amora’s soft noises as Sylvain feels more than sees her lower her head to start nosing at the grass. Sylvain shifts slightly, starting to feel a little unnerved in this ambience. “The one who took care of the wolf pack?” He tries instead, scratching at the back of his head nervously.

The man blinks his eyes, breaking the strange tension that had started to build and turned his head and his gaze back to the meat that he’s trying to roast. “I am.” He states nonchalantly while he appears to be occupied by inspecting the meat. Sylvain is certain that not all of his attention is completely off Sylvain. “You have a job for me?”

Straight to the point, it seems. The words the woman at the tavern had used to describe him as ‘not the most pleasant’, don’t quite seem to fit. Sylvain reads this man as more ‘no nonsense’, a peculiar trait for someone so young to have. Perhaps he’s had a hard life living as a sell-sword.

“Potentially.” Sylvain says, playing a bit coy. He notices the corners of the man’s lips tighten, but Sylvain turns away from him. He moves a few paces and ties off Amora’s reins to a nearby tree branch. He can feel the man’s eyes on him while he works, but when he turns back around the sell-sword is once more back to his cooking.

Sylvain momentarily looks around the small camp. It’s not much, a small tent set up under the canopy of the trees with enough dirt instead of grass around it that made the firepit safe. A pile of bags along with a complete set of horse tack sits next to the tent. Sylvain frowns and glances further into the clearing and sees, off in the distance, a horse wandering the clearing. A majestic creature, though too far away to determine whether it’s a stallion or a mare and quite large. It’s mostly black with only a few patches of white that Sylvain can make out from where he stood.. The horse must be incredibly loyal to its rider for it to be allowed to roam around free-ranged like this.

Even as close as his bond is with Amora, Sylvain isn’t willing to test her loyalty to that extent. 

The man gives an irritated huff, drawing Sylvain’s attention to him once more. “You either have a job for me, or you’re wasting my time. Which is it?” He snaps. And Sylvain watches as the man lifts the skewer of meat and takes a hearty bite of it, his eyes glaring before him in irritation. Sylvain’s stomach gives a slight growl again, but his instilled social graces cringe at the lack of table manners. He’s not eating with his mouth open or anything but Sylvain will never get used to eating with no silverware available no matter how many times he’s had to. 

“I’ll be honest,” Sylvain starts. A rarity for him at the start of an acquaintanceship, but no need for this man to be informed of that little detail. “You weren’t what I was expecting to see stepping into this clearing.” He steps closer, further into the camp and lowers himself to sit down across the firepit from the man. It puts him in a good view of this increasingly attractive man, even if his personality could stand to be a bit more pleasant. It also gives him a better look at the left side of this man and Sylvain can see old, pale scars that litter the man’s left arm. There’s a multitude of them in a strange branching like pattern, denser around the wrist and then spiking up all the way up and dispersing out to where only a few strikes appear on his shoulder. 

Sylvain has never seen this injury before, but he’s certainly heard tales of it. There’s plenty of tales of mages getting wounds from backfiring spells when they’re first learning the complicated reason spells. Oh, he’s seen a few scars from burnt flesh and a few lacerations from wind magic, but this is the first time he's seen any thunder magic scars. Most of what he’s heard of thunder magic going array ends up with the mage six feet in the ground. The fact this man survived such an extensive wound and didn’t even lose the arm is quite impressive. If this man is skilled with a blade and also knows some magic, to any extent, perhaps Sylvain is doing a disservice by underestimating him. 

The man doesn’t seem too happy that Sylvain has moved closer, but while he seems annoyed he doesn’t seem like he’s going to spontaneously attack Sylvain for simply being irritating. He moves from his crouched position to sit more fully, pulling his knees up and resting his forearms over them, continuing to take small bites of the meat while he waits for Sylvain to finish his inspection. He somehow looks even smaller, and Sylvain notes the difference in their posture. In contrast, Sylvain is much more open, his legs not fully stretched out but he’s resting his weight back on the palms of his hands. 

“I do have a job for you, if you’re interested in it that is.” Sylvain begins. “There’s a lot of travel involved and we’ll be traveling quite a ways to the southwest. While I am certainly skilled enough, I’m almost certain to run into  _ some _ sort of trouble traveling so far and I’d like an extra pair of hands to help out.”

The man picks at the last of the meat on the bone and tosses the scraps off to the side further into the forest. He brings his arm back in and stays in that strange hunched over position. “How far southwest?” He asks, his voice sounding the farthest from interested as he could possibly get. Sylvain had been hoping to avoid talking just yet about how much he’s willing to pay to have a travel companion. While he has no clue as to this man’s skillset, he’s also, unfortunately, the first thing closest to a mercenary he’s seen in his travels so far, and he’s no longer in a position to be picky. 

“Pretty far,” Sylvain admits. “To Magdred and then onward to the tallest peak of the Oghma mountains.”

The man gives a snort and a roll of his eyes, and it’s the furthest from the reaction Sylvain had been expecting. He’d expected some surprise from how far away that is and maybe even some question about what’s so important about trying to scale the Oghma mountains, but instead all he gets is a derisive: “Oh, this.”

“‘This?’” He repeats, his own frown starting to tug at his mouth. “You say that like you know what I’m about to ask of you.”

The man gives a nod and while his face goes serious once more his amber eyes sparkle from amusement. “Please, you’re hardly the first nobleman to ask for assistance to take on the Oghma Mountains. Any mercenary with skill has escorted any number of rich bastards up there so the noble can come back to take all the credit for himself.”

Well… it seems Sylvain isn’t the first person to have such a brilliant thought. 

“It’s a ridiculous tradition to die over. And, for many reasons, I’d rather not be one of the ones who doesn’t come back from this.” Sylvain admits, a true smile beginning to tug at the corner of his lips. He’s surprised by this man’s honest way of speaking and, once again, intrigued by this man who was able to pin him as a noble in the short time they’ve been talking. Not many are willing to speak so bluntly towards the nobility to their face. Not only is this man strangely attractive, he’s also surprisingly very refreshing. “But, unfortunately, there’s no way for me to get out of this, so I figured the best course of action would be to hire some extra hands to make sure I don’t suffer an unnecessary death.”

There’s any number of treacherous monsters lurking around the Oghma Mountains. Tales of simple beasts such as bears and wolves, but also tales of demonic entities and even some rumors of a dragon or two lurking around the tallest peak. It’s a stupid idea to travel the mountains at all, let alone, well,  _ alone _ . But tradition demands that he reach the tallest peak. But, like he’s just told this man before him, he’s certainly not looking to die up in the mountains. 

“It is an idiotic noble tradition.” The man nods along with Sylvain’s words and he seems to come to some decision. “But it’s not my job to judge you for taking up such a quest if you chose to hire my services. I am skilled with swords and I know a bit of reason magic. I will accept two thousand gold upfront and another two thousand once we’re down from the mountains. An additional thousand if you require an escort back to Gautier territory.

Sylvain’s eyebrows rise so high he’s a little foolishly scared they might fall off. Not only is a man a few years younger than him asking for almost five thousand gold but he’s also just correctly guessed which nobility Sylvain is from without them even being introduced. 

Now it’s Sylvain’s turn to narrow his eyes in suspicion. “You know who I am?” He asks, wishing he’d thought to take his dagger out of Amora’s saddlebag. But, then again, this man has known who he was possibly this whole time and has yet to act overly aggressive. Sylvain is hoping this might be one of those ‘he would have already done something by now’ moments.

“Fiery red hair and a lecherous grin? Your reputation certainly precedes you, Sylvain Gautier. At least around these parts.” The man brushes a few stray, dark locks of hair out of his face. “Don’t worry about the money, you can more than afford it and I’m the best option you’ll run across this side of the Galatea River.”

It seems Sylvain is at a bit of an impasse. He could either trust this man at his word and be out five thousand gold - a hefty dent in the money he’s carrying with him - or, he can set off again to find someone else in the hopes that their prices are a little cheaper. But, with this man before him, he’s managed to find someone not only surprisingly interesting but also easy on the eyes. He’ll certainly not find such a man anywhere else. 

“Alright, it’s a deal then. Two thousand up front.” Sylvain gives a nod and leans his way forward to stretch his arm over the smouldering remains of the cooking fire. He extends his hand in for a shake to seal the deal but the man before him shies away and eyes his hand suspiciously like he has no idea why Sylvain is reaching out for him. 

So Sylvain gives a shrug and withdrawals. “So, you know who I am but I have no idea what your name is.” He admits with a bit of a laugh, reaching up to scratch at his cheek. “The woman at the tavern didn’t give me much information about you other than what I mentioned before.”

“My name is Felix.” The man introduces himself. “I’ll be taking that money now. When do we set out?”

“Alright, alright.” Sylvain gives out a slight chuckle over the slight eagerness he can hear in the man’s voice and pushes himself into a standing position. “Tomorrow at sunrise.” He tells Felix, stepping away to make his way back to Amora. He raises his voice slightly so Felix can still hear him even with his back turned. “I’ll be staying at the tavern in the village for the night, so you have until the morning to make your travel preparations.”

He digs around in Amora’s saddle bag as he searches for the hidden compartment he’s stashed his generous coin supply in. He left behind anything that would obviously mark him as a noble back in Gautier and made sure his travel wear doesn’t look more lush than any other wandering traveler. A blight on his normal fashion choices, for sure, but one that will ultimately save him in situations where he might come across bandits. He only keeps so much on his person, enough to shop for extra provisions or pay for a night’s stay at an inn or tavern. 

Sylvain counts out the requested amount of gold pieces and pools them into a spare pouch he has. He ties up the pouch and turns back around, a little surprised to see that Felix is still in his seated position shoveling some dirt onto the still smoldering fire to put it out fully. He’d assumed the man would be up and about to prepare. But the day is still young so perhaps Felix will travel back to the village later this evening to spend his coins. 

Felix looks up again when Sylvain steps back in front of the firepit. His amber eyes settle somewhere around Sylvain’s hands as Sylvain tosses the coin bag towards him. A skinny arm whips out to be in just the correct position for him to catch the bag in his palm, the coins clinking together musically, all without moving from his curled up position. He brings the bag upward towards him to peer inside, taking out a single gold piece to inspect it. 

“Alright,” Felix says, tucking the gold back into the bag, taking his time to tie it back up again. “I’ll see you at the tavern at first light.” he says dismissively, and tosses the bag back towards his own supplies.

The soft noise draws the attention of the man’s horse, who has wandered closer during the time of their talking. The horse’s ears flicker in the direction of the sound and it trots over to inspect the source, completely ignoring Sylvain’s presence. Up close, Sylvain can see that it’s a stallion, one of significant height and he has an appealing black and white spotted coat. Though mainly black, he has markings of white centered along his flank and mark out his face in an almost mask-like pattern. 

Sylvain gestures to the horse, unable to help himself from commenting on such a creature. “Beautiful horse.” He comments, watching as the stallion loses interest and moves away to find a better patch of grass. “Must have cost you a fortune. What’s his name?”

Felix makes a small noise and looks back over at his stallion. He’s silent for a moment, seemingly lost in thought, before he answers Sylvain’s question. “Aegis.”

Sylvain frowns, his eyebrows furrowing looking from the sell-sword to his horse. “Aegis?” he repeats, getting a nod in return. “You from Fraldarius?” He questions without hesitation. He’d noted how Felix’s looks earlier might be from the region; however, having a horse named as such seems to put more of the pieces together. He’s only ever heard the name ‘Aegis’ in regards to the famous heirloom held by the Fraldarius noble family. 

Could this be why this man feels so familiar to him? Perhaps on one of his journeys to the region in his youth he’d run across an equally younger version of Felix on the streets at some point.

He used to visit the Fraldarius estate when his father would seek council with Lord Rodrigue. Sylvain used to play with the Lord’s children, Glenn and Felicity, until tragedy struck the Fraldarius family all those years ago. He hasn’t visited the estate since, hadn’t had a reason to and had even avoided the region altogether at the start of his journey by going through Fhirdiad instead. Even after all these years it still pains his chest to think about what had happened to his friends. 

Sylvain shakes his head and forces away the memories, but can’t help rubbing a hand along his chest like that will dislodge the pain that’s made its way into the center of his heart. He forces his attention back onto Felix to try and distract himself. He’s definitely hitting the drinks tonight once all of his preparations are out of the way. 

Felix squints his eyes at Sylvain in a look that isn’t quite a glare but Sylvain isn’t sure what else to call it. “I didn’t name him.” The man says, his voice clipped and Sylvain feels like he’s suddenly overstayed his welcome at this man’s camp. Sylvain gets the distinct impression that Felix won't appreciate any more questions into his past. Well, dark and mysterious seems to be Sylvain’s type when it comes to men so he can respect such a decision.

Sylvain gives a shrug and decides not to push his luck further. He turns back to make his way once more towards Amora. He unties her reins and hoists himself up onto her saddle, looking down on Felix who has turned his attention towards the far off trees on the other side of the clearing. 

“See you in the morning.” He says, moving the reins to turn Amora around and retreats back towards the village.

✽------✽------✽

  
  


Dawn filters in through the thin curtains of the room and Sylvain carefully unwraps his arms from the girl in bed with him and sits up. He’d had a fun time with the girl from the tavern last night; chatting, flirting, drinking and then retiring to her room for the night to have even more fun. It’d been a while since he’d last slept with someone and while the experience had been fun he’d more been glad for the free room. 

Not that he’d managed to sleep much. He had managed to pass out after making sure that the woman was also satisfied and after finding a cloth to clean up his seed off of her stomach. He can’t afford having a surprise come up a few years from now and his father would most certainly kill him for sireing a bastard child with some nameless woman. Not that this woman knows who he actually is. When he’d come back he’d properly introduced himself with his middle name to hide his identity. Jose sounds just as good as his first name does when a woman screams it in pleasure and works even better as his cover name. 

But after a few hours he’d been awake again, jittery to start his travels and to see Felix again. He hadn’t seen the sell-sword throughout the rest of the day. Not into the evening around town when Sylvain had restocked on some of his provisions, nor at night when Sylvain had taken to playing a game of cards with some locals and the tavern woman sitting on his lap for good luck. Not seeing Felix again hadn’t exactly soured his night but he had a vague sense of disappointment up until the moment he was alone in the room with the woman.

He probably should have caught her name at some point, she did tell him what it was but he’d forgotten it somewhere around his third pint of ale for the night. He wants to say it’s something like Mary or Mariam or something similar but he hadn’t wanted to take his chances on losing a free room for the night. So he’d done all he could to make her feel special throughout the night, had even pulled her close after their activities in the hopes of her having good memories of this night. He hopes to creep out of the room without her knowing and while she’ll hate him for it, he hopes it won’t spoil the fun she had tonight too much. 

Carefully, he extracts himself from the bed moving gingerly and swiftly pulling his side of the blankets back over what was his side of the bed. The woman is still nude, sleeping away peacefully, but she’ll be cold soon enough without Sylvain’s body heat radiating next to hers. He’d kept his shirt on through the night, only letting her run her hands under his shirt to get at the skin and muscles along his chest and back. She’d been disappointed but relented when he’d spun some story about unsightly scars. She hadn’t called him out for not feeling any of them, but she’d never asked again for his shirt to come off. 

It would have been a little awkward for her to see his birthmark branding him as a member of the Gautier family that rests underneath his collarbone. It’s a minor thing, only slightly bigger than a gold coin piece and a few shades deeper than his skin tone. The two horizontally separate halves of a whole circle sprout off three markings each, making a vague sideways ‘S’ with the longer arms of the mark. Every Gautier is born with one; just as every noble is born with their own family crest, marking their bloodlines as different and easy to spot when a noble has produced a bastard child.

Something the Gautier family is more than a little acquainted with. 

The sun’s morning rays begin drifting through the curtains, providing enough light for Sylvain to see as he begins to locate the rest of his discarded clothing. His underwear first, then his pants, but it takes him a few looks around in the unfamiliar room before he’s able to pinpoint his belt. He ties it around his waist and puts on his socks before gathering his boots up. The woman shifts, alerting him before he stiffens, biting his bottom lip and holding his breath while he waits to see if she’s being to wake up from her slumber. But soon enough she stills with a long low exhale, shifting to curl up more underneath the blankets.

Sylvain exhales a quiet sigh of relief, patiently pausing a few more moments to make sure she’s fully unconscious before he gathers what remained. He slings one strap over his shoulder and gathers up his boots to carry them in single-handed. He carefully digs around in the coin pouch attached to his belt and pulls out the few winnings he’d made last night which he sets down on the dresser by the door. He isn’t paying her for the sex, so much as her general hospitality. So if she takes offense by the gesture, well, he’ll be long gone by the time she wakes up. He creeps out of the room, carefully easing the door closed behind him until it meets the door frame with a muffled thud. 

Sylvain’s left in the darker hallway of the upper section of the tavern, but the room he’s emerged from is close enough to the stairs that he’s able to find them once he’s walked forward a bit. Light spills in a bit from the front windows and Sylvain is pleasantly surprised to find that the tavern is much less dingy looking at the edge of dawn..

He sits down on the top of the stairs and takes his time to pull on his boots and lace them up properly. He’s fairly certain some of the locals spent the night in some of the other rooms available upstairs so he’s still careful about any noise he’s making, but once the last boot is tied up he takes a moment to stretch out his arms and his upper body. While that bed had been much better to sleep on than the hard ground, like he’s had to deal with most nights since the start of this journey, it’s nothing on his luxurious bed backt home. His spine gives a few pops and he’s unable to stop the groan of relief that follows as the feeling of tension slowly leaves his back. 

The noise echoes through the empty hallway and he’s quick on his feet to head down the stairway. He takes them as quickly and stealthily as he could manage until he reached the bottom of them and was able to head to the front entrance. He pushes the doors open and squints at the full power of the sun as it tries to blind him. Sylvain blinked in rapidly to allow his eyes to adjust before he’s able to see the lovely sunrise that casts everything in a warm golden hue. Sylvain’s hardly ever awake at this early hour, and he finds he likes how fresh the air smells and the tranquility of the village surrounding him. 

Hooves trotting against the ground breaks the silence and Sylvain turns his head to see a figure on horseback heading towards the tavern. A familiar figure on an equally familiar stallion. Felix and Aegis are a pleasant sight to see even though Sylvain doesn’t know the man all that well. As far as his horse goes, well, Sylvain much prefers animals to humans the majority of the time. 

Sylvain gives an easy grin and raises his arm in the air to wave at Felix as he makes his way closer. Sylvain steps off of the steps leading to the tavern and swings around to the side of the building where the tavern has a makeshift stable attached. It’s not much of one, only an extended roof for cover and some hammered in posts to tie off leads to. He’d hated to leave Amora out here, especially since there wasn’t anywhere to store her saddle, leaving no choice but to have the saddle remain on her throughout the night.

Amora is dozing when he rounds the side of the building. She’s the first horse he sees, though there are two steeds further down the side of the building. Amora wakes up when he gives his normal soft clicks at her and he runs his hand along the side of her neck to soothe her as she gives a snort at being awoken. She shifts her stance slightly and tosses her head before she calms down for him. 

Sylvain can hear Aegis’ hooves traveling closer and when he looks over Sylvain takes in the sight of Felix atop his horse. He’s fully dressed this time, body covered by his travel clothes and Sylvain kinda misses being able to see his exposed arms. Felix’s new attire seems vastly more appropriate for the weather that Faerghus normally experiences, these last few days have been something of an outlier with how pleasantly warm it has been. It looks like a lot of layer to the sell swords outfit and with the fur lined Sylvain feels a little underdressed with just his light tunic on. 

“Hey,” Sylvain greets, turning his attention away from Felix to confirm Amora’s saddle hadn’t loosened up somehow during the night. “I’m almost ready to settle out.”

He hears Felix’s soft hum of acknowledgement as he leans over to untie Amora’s lead and slowly leads her out from under the awning before he sets about tying his pack to his horses’ saddle. Another glance up at Felix shows the tiredness of the other man's eyes, and while he doesn’t have a hair out of place from how he’d had it yesterday, Sylvain gets the distinct impression that this Felix isn’t normally an early riser. It makes him smile a bit, but he hides it quickly, unsure why he suddenly feels an instant fondness for this man. Perhaps he’s just in a good mood this morning. 

Tugging on the straps to make sure everything is nice and secure, Sylvain then braces himself. He takes a hold of the saddle horn and slips his foot into the closest stirrup to hoist himself up onto Amora’s saddle. She stays still, letting him get fully situated and waits for his instructions. 

Sylvain glances once more at Felix and motions for him to follow with a jerk of his head. He clicks his tongue and presses his heels into Amora’s side to get her moving. She presses forward, following the pulls Sylvain applies to her reins until she’s pointed in the right direction to head out of the town. Another set of horse shoes impacting the dirt behind him is the only indication he has that Felix is following behind him.

They move past the quiet tavern and then soon they’re out of the town entirely when the road curves and they’re engulfed by the trees lining the road. It’s a decently well traveled path, worn down by feet and hooves as well as wagons. 

“What route are we taking?” Felix asks, breaking the quiet between them and the sudden sound of his voice startles Sylvain more than he cares to admit. “You said we’re headed to Magdred, correct?”

“Uh…” Sylvain offers ever so helpfully, he pulls Amora’s reins to put her beside Aegis. Felix eyes him warily, and with how tall his horse is, he’s currently almost the same height as Sylvain. “You know, the normal route?” He says, wincing when his voice lilts at the end in the form of a question. He knows where Magdred is on a map from all his studies about Fodlan, but the map he has doesn’t show any specific routes or roads, mainly just rivers and important towns and cities. He’d made it as far as Conand with his current map, how hard could it be crossing half the country?

Felix breathes out an irritated scoff, his breath pushing a few stray hairs away from his face, and levels a glare at Sylvain’s shoulder again. Sylvain gets the feeling that Felix’s exasperation is going to be a common occurrence between the two of them, but he’s dealt with a lot worse than a few glares in his time. And, admittedly, Felix’s glares don’t quite hit as hard when the man can’t meet his eyes.

“Why even take up this quest if you have no idea what you’re doing?” Felix questions, and Sylvain knows it’s a rhetorical question so he keeps his mouth shut while Felix presses onward. “Let me see your map.” He demands, adjusting his hold on Aegis’ reins and holds his hand out.

Sylvain heaves a sigh and pulls up on Amora’s reigns to halt her movement and twists to reach the bag he usually keeps his map in. It takes some digging, pushing aside the other contents in his satchel before locating the piece of wrinkled parchment. It’s a bit crumpled and he doesn’t quite remember the last time he’d bothered to consult it, nevertheless, it’s still intact so he hands over the mapto Felix who has stopped Aegis next to Amora. 

Felix frowns at the mess that is the map and unfolds it with a care that Sylvain finds interesting. He studies the map for a bit in silence, amber eyes darting over the features on the parchment before he gives out his own sign. 

“Magdred is further out of the way then we need to be going.” He scolds, moving the parchment to point at the Oghma Mountain range in the general direction of where the tallest peak would be, then drags his finger over to another location slightly further north from the peak. “Charon would be a better location to set off towards the mountains. We might have to leave the horses there, but we would have to do that in Magdred anyway.”

Sylvain squints at the map and takes a moment to think. It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought of Charon as a possible stop, but he honestly doesn’t know anything about the city other than it’s close proximity to the Oghma Mountain. Which, theoretically, does sound like a better option to head to, but…

“Admittedly, I know nothing of Charon. I assumed being that close to the mountains would be just as advantageous as it could be disastrous. My father traveled to Magdred years ago when he did this quest and he strongly suggested I follow his same path.” Sylvain admits, rubbing the back of his head, feeling a bit sheepish. He doesn’t usually always follow his father's orders over everything, even when years of dealing with his father’s temperament have taught him that he probably should. “I also have a feeling he’s got someone waiting for me in Magdred to make sure I’m still following his orders.”

Felix grimaces up from the map and frowns. He carefully folds up the map and presses it back into Sylvain’s hands. “You’re the one meant to do this quest, so do what you want. But my suggestion is Charon.” Sylvain takes the map back and slips it once more into his pack as Felix continues on. “Regardless, we’ll have to stop in a town in Galatea to further prepare for the trip. Make your mind up by then.”

His new traveling companion commands his horse into action and the large horse obeys beautifully, moving past Sylvain and his own mount with quick, confident strides. Sylvain gives Amora a comforting stroke to her neck before he too commands her to follow. She obeys and with Aegis’ slow and steady pace she’s easily able to move up next to him. Felix keeps his eyes trained ahead and Sylvain knows enough to tell when someone is through with a conversation. 

Which is just as fine with Sylvain as he now has to sit and ponder the logistics of which route to take. It’d been easy enough to concede with his father and choose the path that would lead all the way down to Magdred. It’s going to take equally as long to get to and back from the peak of the Oghma Mountains no matter which city or town he decides to stop in along the way. And while at Gautier Manor it’d been simple enough just to go by his father’s orders, now Sylvain is presented with another option.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered disobeying his father. That is a thought he’s had for quite a long time, simmering in the back of his head and leading him to do all manner of things he knows his father doesn’t approve of. It’s more that Sylvain is used to small practices of disobedience and, well, this is as far from a minor act of rebellion as it can get. He might have told Felix that he only suspects there to be someone waiting for him in Magdred but, knowing his father like he does, he’s absolutely certain of it.

The margrave, Edmund Gautier, is a very influential man and Sylvain knows that his reach goes much farther than just the towns along the borders between the Holy Kingdom and the Leicester Alliance . He might even have some influence in the Empire, but if he does he’s been tight-lipped around Sylvain about it. Disobeying him wouldn’t be the smartest move anyone could ever make.

But, out here in what feels like the middle of nowhere, it’d be hard for his father to do anything about Sylvain going anywhere he pleases. In fact, Sylvain could very well disavow his pledge to this journey and go live his life out somewhere as a simple farmer if he truly wanted. He’s not going to, but the fact still remains that he  _ could _ . And Sylvain wouldn’t experience any possible consequences until well after he’s already returned back to the manor.

Sylvain takes in a breath and lets it out in a long rush of air. He sees Felix turn to look at him, a confused frown on his lips which Sylvain returns with a grin. “Alright, lets go to Charon.”

✽------✽------✽

Two months before Sylvain is to set off on his journey, Edmund Gautier approaches his son with a decision. One that Sylvain had been expecting but still dreaded to hear all the same. After a good, long run of freedom for these past twenty-five years, Sylvain Jose Gautier is engaged to be married. His father making this decision while his wife, Sylvain’s mother, is away visiting her family in Teutates doesn’t go unnoticed by Sylvain.

His bride to be hails from Mateus and her parents have, apparently, produced a deal so good that the margrave just can’t refuse. The joining of the two houses would be the talk of the nobility for years to come and Sylvain’s father is pushing full force to get the ball rolling on this wedding. Sylvain isn’t as enthused, but he’d learned long ago that any resistance against his father is just met with either his protests ignored or him littered with bruises.

So, Sylvain grins and bares the news with what he hopes isn’t too much passive aggressiveness. He’d always known that he would never have any say in who he was to marry when he was older. And he’d already been engaged once before. Felicity Fraldarius had been his first betrothed upon her birth two years after his own. He’d been too young to fully realize what exactly that had meant but he’d always liked her. She’d been a bit of a crybaby but Sylvain had been ridiculously fond of her all the same. Growing up he’d never even resented his engagement to her, even into his mid teen years.

When news spread that she’d gone missing shortly after her brother’s passing, he’d tried everything in his power to help bring her home.. At the time, he was fifteen and of no aid to the search parties. In spite of being childhood friends, Sylvain hadn’t seen her in many, many years. He only had his memory to bank on, and trying to find a dark haired girl in the nearby towns had been like trying to find a needle in a haystack. 

After several months of searching with no traces of her, margrave Gautier renounced his sons’ engagement to the Fraldaris family and Sylvain had been a free man since. Sylvain had been angry at first but, with no sign of Felicity even still being alive, he’d eventually come around to his father’s viewpoint. Margrave Gautier spent these remaining years trying to find a suitable replacement bride, and Sylvain had thrown himself into his philandering ways. Losing Felicity had turned him bitter in his youth. He’d subconsciously compared every girl he’d meet to her, finding them lacking in many ways that Felicity would have excelled at in his memory of her. Plus, it became more than apparent that all these girls had come to him in hopes of being the next ‘Mrs. Gautier’ and he figured if they were going to try to use him, he might as well use them in return.

For many years that had been Sylvain’s lifestyle. Boozing and sneaking out of his own manor to wander the streets looking for a party, and a good time for the night. He hasn’t slept with every woman he wanders into a backroom with but he has spurned enough of them that he’d eventually been firmly on every woman’s blacklist in Gautier. Though, to be fair, after a while starting tavern fights and getting blackout drunk almost every night had lost most of its original appeal by that time as well.

So, he’d eventually toned down his womanizing ways and hardly left the Manor after dark.

Hearing his father suddenly announce to him he was once again engaged, had completely blindsided Sylvain. And to hear that it was to the heiress from Mateus was also another shock. Lord and Lady Mateus had kept their daughter secret and out of the public eye for years until she became of age and they could find the best suitor for her. Why they decided to set their sights on Sylvain, whose reputation has traveled even further than the Gautier territory, he has no idea. But his father delivers the news with a proud little smirk like a cat who’d just caught itself a particularly fat bird.

Sylvain only asks the minimal questions. He has no need to know what all Mateus had to give up in the form of their daughter’s dowry. He’ll find out eventually anyway, so he keeps his questions to the basics: ‘How old is she?’, and ‘When do the wedding preparations begin?’. Sylvain knows that he has no say in any of this, and while he concealed his clenched fists under the table, he also knows that any signs of his anger will not end well for him.

He learns that she is nineteen to his twenty-five, an answer that has him hiding a grimace, and that the preparations will begin as soon as Lord and Lady Mateus get the margrave’s letter of approval which has already been sent out early that morning. Sylvain’s father goes on a bit longer about the duties that Sylvain will have to do and Sylvain makes like he’s listening but internally he’s panicking.

From there it had been a waiting game for the letter to reach its destination and then to receive the reply. Sylvain had taken to spending his days just trying to get through them. He’d been sequestered to the Manor grounds on orders from his father, perhaps to stop him from either running completely or visiting the taverns again. The maids do no more than congratulate him on his upcoming nuptials and even the newer hires shuffle awkwardly when he tries to sweet talk with them. Perhaps he should be considering being faithful to his new bride but he hasn’t even met her yet and, well, he’s already pretty scummy. He’ll be faithful once the wedding ceremony is finished, not that it looks like he’ll be able to sleep around anytime soon. 

Spending his days in the library ends up being more fun than he’d first thought. He wasn’t one to consider himself interested in reading or learning new things but the library does wonders to pass the time. While there isn’t much in the way of books that aren’t tomes about magical theories or ones that contain tales of the Gautier heritage. There are a few romantic tales of knights that must have belonged to his mother at some point. He’s not sure of their validity though they’re entertaining enough and before he knows it almost a month has passed and a letter shows up in his father’s mail.

A servant hands it to the margrave during a rare lunch that his father had commanded they take together. The timing of the letter seems a little too coincidental and Sylvain pokes at his food while his father reads over the letter, his appetite suddenly gone. A moment of silence exchanges between the two, before it’s interrupted by the margrave slamming his fist onto the table.

“Your bride-to-be has invoked the Quest of Kadupul.” His father announces, the anger in his voice and mannerisms apparent. Every movement he makes displays his anger, the clinking of his silverware against his plate and the porcelain clinking of his tea cup against the table every time he takes a drink. How the porcelain hadn’t shattered yet, Sylvain had no idea. 

“As is her right.” Sylvain replies, trying hard not to feel impressed by his new bride-to-be. Not every woman evokes the quest, but every woman has the right to, and Sylvain feels a little foolish he hadn’t written to her begging for her to do it in the first place. His life might soon be on the line, but anyone who gets one over on margrave Gautier gets a little bit of respect in his eyes.

His father casts an unimpressed glare over at him and Sylvain can practically see the rage that simmers in his eyes. There is no way of Sylvain getting out of this quest without bringing shame to the Gautier family. Well, more shame than he already has. If he fails to come back the Gautier family will be the laughing stock of the century. While that is a tempting thought, and a way to stick it to his father one last time, Sylvain doesn’t actually want to die. And as for actually completing the quest and coming back, he has a feeling his bride-to-be is expecting him to fail one way or another.

“You  _ will _ go on this quest.” Edmund Gautier orders, pointing his cutting knife at his son to emphasise his seriousness. “You’ll take your duties to this family seriously and you  _ will _ be successful.”

“Yes, sir.” Sylvain replies, sealing his fate.

✽------✽------✽

The marketplace in the city of Galatea is very lackluster despite the buildings that tower all around. Sylvain hadn’t been to Galatea in a very long time, not since his father had last made the trip down here to talk to the Count and Sylvain had been about, maybe, nine at the time. While he’d been childhood friends with the Count’s daughter, Ingrid Galatea, Sylvain had mostly spent his time not in Gautier in either Fhirdiad or Fraldarius.

He’d certainly heard about the great famine that had plagued Galatea. A harsh winter had lasted a little too long in this area, killing all crops and stretching the Counts' already thin treasury even more to keep his people alive. The effects of that winter and famine can still be seen today, with barren fields and dead trees leading into the city even though it’d been many years since such a deep freeze has struck the land. 

This far north in Faerghus has always been bitterly cold, with late springs and mild summers. But traveling from Conand to Galatea had been an extreme Sylvain hadn’ factored into his travels and he’d been forced to throw on a long sleeved shirt with a jerkin overtop to fight off the cold, frigid air. Felix had been more prepared, throwing on a heavy cloak over his travel clothes and slipping on a pair of fur lined gloves that Sylvain is a little jealous of.

The people in the city are quiet and reserved, eyeing unfamiliar faces with suspicion. Even in Conand’s quaint market, there had still been that hustle and bustle that always seemed to come with vendors setting up shops and hoping to entice others closer with their wares. But the market here is the same as it is throughout the entire city; people talking in hushed voices and many more people bundled up in thick layers to stave off the cold that seems to linger all around.

Much of the products the merchants have for sale are dingy, drab, and sparse. Threadbare garments and subpar weapons make up the bulk of what the vendors have, but no one tries to entice him or Felix closer for a look at what is on offer. Pale, grimy faces peek out from the stalls as they pass, their eyes narrowed in suspicion and Sylvain suspects that even if they were to try and purchase something they’d be waved off. The people might be in need of coins, but Sylvain senses a pride coming off of the vendors. They know what they have to offer isn’t the best for travelers and they will not accept any coin out of pity. 

Felix marches ahead through the street, paying little mind to any of the shops next to him and seemingly beelining towards a set destination. Sylvain is only a little ways behind him. They’d made good on their traveling time to get here so early in the late afternoon. Though that was mainly because Felix had turned out to be quite a stick-in-the-mud and had refused to take a detour to check out Conand Tower like Sylvain had wanted. It would have only added an hour to their time getting here but Felix had been very adamant about getting in and out of Galatea as fast as possible. But, all though the people might not be so friendly here, this town can’t be all that bad.

They lead their horse along behind them, both of them deciding it best to not leave their animals and packs unattended. Well, Sylvain leads Amora. Felix hadn’t bothered to gather up Aegis’ reins when he’d dismounted, and once again the giant horse is showing his loyalty to his owner, diligently following behind. It’s been less than four days since Sylvain has met Felix, and he’s of the opinion that the sell-sword and his horse are a very strange duo. He hasn’t caught Felix whispering to Aegis or anything like that, but Sylvain has never seen a mount more in tune to its owner like Aegis is. The stallion must have had the best training in all of the kingdom to be so loyal, but a simple sell-sword would never be able to even hope to afford such a price for a mount like Aegis. If anything, Sylvain might wander if Felix might have actually stolen Aegis from the king's stables if not for how loyal the horse is to Felix and only Felix. Sylvain hasn’t had many opportunities to issue any commands to the stallion but the few he’s tried, out of earshot of Felix, had been steadily ignored.

Felix is quite a surly man but, despite his demeanor, Sylvian finds him more than a little fascinating. In their four days together, Sylvain has been able to work out exactly nothing in regards to information about Felix and Sylvain’s always been a sucker for a mystery.

“So,” Sylvain starts, interrupting the doom and gloom that has settled in around them since they entered the city. It earns him a dark glare from Felix, but that’s hardly new at this point. He picks up his gait a little so they are suddenly walking shoulder to shoulder. “Have you ever been there? To Charon I mean.” 

“No.” Felix answers simply, turning his gaze back to eye those around them with equal amounts of suspicion. He had a hand resting on the hilt of his blade, daring anyone to get close enough to try anything. A good sign for what Sylvain has hired to be his dignified bodyguard, but more than a little unwarranted in such an unfortunate place. If he didn’t need his gold to make sure Felix got his full pay by the end of everything, Sylvain might be more than a little tempted to pass out a few coins to the nearby peddlers. Sylvain is a little unclear on how much the city people distrust them for merely being strangers or if they distrust them because Felix is practically radiating an air of hostility. 

Sylvain had hoped to staunch it a touch by asking a question, but he’ll have to pry a little deeper to distract Felix it seems. “What’s it like being a sell-sword?” He settles on, giving a sympathetic smile to a person they pass when he catches them staring at the two of them. “I’d assume you’d be able to go anywhere you’d want, whenever you wanted. Or at least wander around until you find decent enough pay.” 

The idea of that sounds kinda good to Sylvain, though he’d miss being able to sleep in a bed whenever he wanted. He might not make it as a mercenary or a sell-sword though… As good at fighting as he is, he hardly has a love for needless violence. He’s a lover, not a fighter, as he’s often said to many a man looking to seek their revenge over some slight he’d caused his sister, or cousin, or mother. 

“Each mercenary group has their territory they reside in,” Felix explains, after a long bit of silence between the two of them. His eyes still take in those around him, but Sylvain sees his grip on his sword relax slightly. “Very few groups wander and any sell-sword worth his weight knows not to be caught taking jobs in those territories. So you learn to settle down where they’re not. People in Conand and Galatea aren’t rich so they can’t afford to hire large groups so this has been my territory for a few years now.”

Sylvain hums softly, taking in that information and mulling it over for a bit. Now that he’s been made aware of it, it does make quite a bit of sense. And also poses a reason as for why Sylvain had such a hard time finding a mercenary group once he’d crossed into Conand territory. 

“Huh.” Sylvain comments, reaching up to scratch at the stubble starting to grow in on his face. If they get a room tonight he’s going to shave. “If this is your territory, then why are you so suspicious of the people here?”

“Because you wouldn’t know subtly if it bit you in the ass.” Felix snaps, once again returning to his grumpy demeanor. “You might as well have a target on your back that says ‘rob me'. I’m surprised you haven’t sauntered ahead and demanded an audience with Ingrid.”

Sylvain frowns and wonders what it is about him that Felix is referring to. It’s not like he’d brought along any of his fancy clothes, and he’d survived so far before Felix came along without being accosted or having anyone, rightly, accusing him of being a nobleman. Red hair might be a signature trait of the Gautier family, but many people from Gautier also have the same wild red hair and smattering of freckles. The only physical thing marking Sylvain is his crest and that’s-

Wait a minute-

“‘Ingrid?’” Sylvain can’t help the surprise that colors his voice. Felix is a commoner, of that he’s more than certain. No one of a higher social standing would ever act as crass as him, and yet he referred to Ingrid by her first name instead of what Sylvain would assume of any lower class individual; Ms. Galatea. “Do you know Ingrid?” He questions. If this had been Felix’s territory like he claims, maybe she’s hired him for something?

Felix goes tense, his steps falter for a moment and Sylvain is almost concerned that Aegis is going to bump into his owner. But Felix quickly gets back into step, walking a little faster to pull himself a bit more ahead of Sylvain who decides it best not to mention that he can see the flush that reddens the tips of Felix’s ears. It’s honestly kinda cute and Sylvain wonders if Felix might have a bit of a crush on Ingrid.

Nothing could come out of it, of course. Felix is but a lowly peasant and Gideon Galatea needs the best deal he can manage out of some other noble family to get his own out of the debt he’s incurred. But Sylvain is a sucker for a forbidden romance.

“Ah, so you do know her.” He says with a grin, picking up his steps until he’s back beside Felix and happily slings an arm around his shorter companions' shoulders. “Perhaps we should stop by the castle and pay a visit before we leave? I’m sure she’d be happy to see the two of us.”

Felix lets out a sound that can only be described as a growl and Sylvain feels the sharp pain of his elbow dig into his side. “We’re not stopping at the castle.” He uses the distraction to slip out from under Sylvain’s arm and levels Sylvain with one of the best glares the Gautier heir has ever seen. “We’re only here to prepare for the long trip to Charon and then we’re leaving.”

Sylvain rubs his side from where he’d been hit, wincing at how boney Felix’s elbow had been. “It wouldn’t be the end of the world to stay here for the night. Even if it’s not the castle, a proper inn would be lovely right now…”

Going on almost three days without a bath has certainly not done any wonders to his hygiene, and going any longer stewing in his own stench isn't something he’s willing to do if he can help it. He’d brought more than enough money to only have to spend days traveling without a bath, though he’s not too adverse from taking a dip in the river if it means he can be clean once more. If they only make Galatea a pit stop then Sylvain is looking at close to over a week without bathing.

He’s not sure he can live with being that dirty for so long…

“Trust me, you do not want to be in the city after nightfall. The only thing stopping you from getting robbed blind right now is me and I’m leaving this city after we’ve grabbed our supplies. Whether you’re with me or not.” Felix hisses, keeping his voice low so that only Sylvain can hear his words. Sylvain can only frown in acknowledgment of his words before Felix is already turning away from him.

Sylvain trails behind Felix, trying not to pout too much. He’s already invested too much money into Felix to let him just walk away like that. Perhaps, if he gives it a few more moments of thought, he can figure out some way of convincing Felix into staying at an Inn tonight. If not, the first river he sees in between here and Charon he’s forcing Felix to make a pit stop for him. The man could probably use one himself at that point. Sylvain has no idea how long it’s been since Felix has had a proper washing, though he can’t recall him smelling rank just yet. 

Felix lets out a soft clicking noise from his mouth and Aegis’ trot slows to a stop. Sylvain slows as well, wondering why they’ve stopped in front of what seems to be a particularly run-down building. There are no signs to mark it as a business on the side that faces the street, and Felix isn’t the type to be making stops just to see some friends. 

“What is this place?” Sylvain asks, trying to peer into the window but the panes are too caked in grime for him to see much more than some slight movement inside.

“It’s the Butcher’s shop.” Felix replies, reaching out to dig into Aegis' saddle bag to pull out a coin pouch. When he turns around and sees Sylvain's disgruntled look, he elaborates. “Galatea still doesn’t produce crops, so our best bet will be to stock up on the dried meats they have available.”

Admittedly, Sylvain doesn’t know much about butcher shops. Any meat he’d eaten had been prepared off sight in either the manor’s kitchen or a tavern’s kitchen. And he’d always kinda imagined a place like this to be on the edge of town with a trail of blood leaking around the building. He likes meat just as much as the next guy, but he’s not too sure he’s interested in walking into that building.

“I’ll just wait out here… You know, watch over our stuff and the horses,” Sylvain says, motioning between himself and said horses. 

Felix narrows his eyes for a moment, casting a glance around the street. He must deem it safe enough, because he gives Sylvain a nod before he starts up the stairs leading to the entrance of the building. He reaches for the door handle and pulls the door open slightly before he turns back to Sylvain. “Alright, just don’t go wandering around.” He says and then quickly disappears inside. 

The streets are quiet and Sylvain shuffles Amora closer to the side of the building to move her out of the way of blocking the street. He doubts there will be much traffic but having one side of her saddlebag pressed up against a wall leaves one less thing for him to keep an eye on. Amora goes easily, but Aegis doesn’t follow suit, choosing instead to remain in the middle of the street.

As a very tall stallion, Aegis is an imposing figure. Currently, he’s tense and alert, his eyes and ears twitching as he’s focused intently on his surroundings. It’s a little interesting to see the complete shift this horse has once Felix is no longer in sight. With Felix around, Aegis is calm and cool, seemingly unaffected by anything around him as long as Felix himself isn’t on alert. Without Felix, Aegis seems anxious.

Sylvain does his best to mimic the rhythm of the soft clicking noise he’s heard Felix give to his stallion. It’s similar enough to what he does to Amora, so he’s not unfamiliar with how to correctly form his mouth to make the noise. Aegis’ ears flick over in his direction but the stallion doesn’t even bother a glance in Sylvain’s direction. There’s not much Sylvain can do for Aegis. The stallion isn’t familiar with him enough for Sylvain to risk getting closer and Aegis isn’t going to move out of the middle of the street on his own it seems. Heaving a long sigh, Sylvain reaches a hand up to pet alongside Amora’s neck. He’s familiar enough with her to know that she’s also feeling a little antsy next to Felix’s steed. 

“Aegis, buddy, it’ll be okay,” Sylvain speaks quietly, not wanting to break the quietness of the street and startle the horse. “Felix will be back any minute now.”

Aegis stamps the ground in response, the noise ringing out as his horseshoe strikes the stone beneath him. He gives a loud snort and a wild toss of his mane, but he does seem a little more settled. Whether from his words or that the stallion is getting more used to his surroundings, Sylvain’s a little unsure.

Time passes, and Sylvain shifts restlessly. There’s no one on this street that Sylvain can see and, while he’s ridden Amora most of the day, his feet ache in his boots. Felix might be opposed to stopping here, but his statement about him protecting Sylvain from being robbed blind rings a little less true if the man isn’t here watching over him at this moment. 

He stifles a yawn behind his hand, and shifts so his back can rest against the side of the building. They’d woken up at the first sight of light this morning. Or, well, he had. They had taken shifts being on the lookout that night. Felix had insisted since they were camped so near to the main road and Sylvain had thought he’d feel more rested if he’d been the one to take the first shift of the night. But it had been harder to wake up when Felix had come rapping on his tent. 

Traveling hadn’t been so bad; he’d had Amora to take most of the burden of his weight after all. But now that he’s stopped finally, he finds he’s more tired than he should be around this time of day. What Sylvain wouldn’t give to be asleep on some decent mattress somewhere. Preferably with some feminine company…

A noise further down the street catches his attention and his eyes snap open. He’s unsure when he’d closed them, but he takes a moment to look around for the source of the noise. A woman makes her way down the street, her arms piled high with crates that look much too heavy for her to be moving. Her face is contorted in her struggle to move the crates all by herself. 

Sylvain frowns and takes in her appearance from here. She’s dressed in a similar brown frock that Sylvain had seen on most of the women. But her blonde hair falls loose and clean around her shoulders and, even from this distance, Sylvain can tell she’s very beautiful. Her heeled boots clammer against the cobbled stone ground beneath her shoes, the sound reminiscent of when they’d been moving the horses down the same street.

As Sylvain watches, her shoe catches on an uneven patch in the cobblestone and she trips; sending the boxes crashing out of her hand and all around her. Sylvain bites his lip in an attempt to stifle the laugh that bubbles forth in his chest. He feels a little bad for laughing, especially when she slumps to the ground and pitifully begins to pick up her items that have scattered around the street. Her shoulders give a heave, and the faint sounds of her beginning to cry fill the silence on the street, increasing his guilt a little more.

Sylvain shifts slightly, casting a glance between the horses as he contemplates his next actions. The woman isn’t that far away and Sylvain is confident that Aegis will alert him if someone tries to creep in close for their stuff. There’s no real reason for him to not try and help this lady out, especially after almost laughing at her. 

He takes a careful step away from Amora, who only gives a toss of her head but makes no move to follow him. Sylvain turns his attention back to the woman on the street and takes the couple of steps he needs to to reach where her furthest crate had scattered too. The woman hears his footsteps and tenses, glancing up at him with a look Sylvain reads as almost fearful. 

“Don’t cry, beautiful,” Sylvain says gently. “Let me help you out.”

He throws on his best smile and carefully squats down to begin moving her items back into their boxes. There are a few books scattered around, their pages getting soggy from the damp ground. He grabs those up first, making quick work of setting the crate upright and shoving them back in haphazardly. There's a strange combination of items in these crates, books, and lumps of ore, forks, and small rabbit pelts. Sylvain has no way of knowing what items had gone in which crate, so he simply lumps as much as he can into the one closest to him.

He glances once more at the woman who stares at him gobsmacked. Her blue eyes are wide and with her long blonde hair, she reminds him a little of Ingrid, but the face shape and age is wrong. She's a bit older and her nose is a little crooked, like it’d broken at some point. 

The woman blinks at him and finally seems to take notice that he’s not trying to rob her.

"O-oh!" She starts, using her wrist to dab at her eyes to wipe the tears from them. She stands quickly, dusting off herself though it hardly seems to make a difference. "I'm embarrassed you had to see such a thing!" Her cheeks flush as if to prove her point and she skirts around actually looking him in the eye. It reminds him a little bit of Felix.

"I'm sure you're regularly a very graceful woman," Sylvain replies, keeping his voice amicable. "Whoever let a delicate flower like yourself carry all of these on your own? Certainly, there must have been someone who could have helped you."

The woman gives an embarrassed laugh, shifting her weight around and one of her hands comes up to absentmindedly twirl her blond hair. "Well, there were no fine, strapping, young men around to help me out. That's for sure."

She gives him a shy smile, and Sylvain stands as well. He's got a good head of height over her small, slender form and he's almost tempted to see if he can tempt her into having some fun in the alley nearby. But Sylvain has known Felix long enough to know that if he's caught not watching the horses there will be hell to pay.

"That's very unfortunate," Sylvain replies, giving a sad shake of his head. "And even more unfortunate that I can't help you much further than helping you pick up these items of yours."

He gestures around to the items still scattered along the ground and the woman's eyes widen slightly, almost as if she'd forgotten about her things. 

“Oh, that’s alright. My destination isn’t too far from here. I would appreciate the help gathering the rest of everything up though.” She gives him a small smile, her hand once more playing with her hair. 

“Certainly,” He agrees, giving her a returning smile and stepping away slightly to begin helping her with her things. 

He's done a good job of picking up a good bit of the items that have scattered the furthest, though there are a few that have rolled and bounced closer towards the alleyway that splits the butcher's shop from the rest of the buildings. Sylvain steps closer, picking up items as he goes. More loose, unrefined ore and a few scrolls casings that he piles into his arms as he goes. 

He collects the last item from the ground and rights himself back up and tenses when he feels a presence at his backside.

"Thank you so much for your help!" The woman says from behind him and Sylvain has no idea how she managed to sneak upon him in those shoes. Her voice is still that same pleasant, grateful tone but something keeps telling Sylvain he's in danger. "But I think I still see something a bit further in there. Can you go get it for me?"

Warning bells sound through his head, and suddenly her voice doesn’t sound as sweet as it once did. There's absolutely no way she sees anything past him with how short and slender she is and Sylvain curses himself for letting his guard down because of a pretty face.

"Ummm..." He says eloquently, pretending to peer further into the darkness of the alley. The tallness of the buildings around as well as the current position of the sun makes it extremely hard to see through the dense shadows. "I'm not seeing anything in there. Let me put these things in a box and then I'll come back to look."

There, a nice easy out. Giving him enough time to make it back to the horses once she's no longer directly behind him.

A sharp pain hits him squarely in between the shoulder blades and he stumbles forward, dropping the items in his arms on the way. The bottom of his shoe catches on one of the loose ores and he goes tumbling. He manages to catch himself but still crashes to the ground, wincing at the pain in his palms as they scrape against the hard surface of the cobblestone. He rolls around quickly and shifts to move back when he sees the flash of the dagger the woman now holds tightly in her hand.

"Hey now!" He cries, scrambling more as she advances after him. His back hits something solid; the brickwork of another building. And a quick glance to his left and right seal his fate. He's trapped in a dead-end. "Can't we talk this over? I'll give you whatever you want!"

It's a little hard to see in the alley, but his eyes are slowly adjusting. He thinks he sees a sneer come over her face, controting it from the mask of innocence she’d been wearing to a cruel twist of her mouth. He gets the feeling that she's not interested in just robbing him.

Sylvain scrambles up, not wanting to die in the middle of some dark, dank alley in the middle of Galatea. His philosophy in life might be that he'd rather not fight, but that doesn't mean he's just going to let this woman get the best of him. 

“How cowardly.” She mocks, a smirk stretching across her face. Then, she leaps forward, aiming her weapon at his chest. 

He flings himself to the side as quickly as possible, wincing at the terrible sound the dagger makes as it hits the brick behind him and bounces off. Sylvian edges away from her, but she rears back much more quickly than he'd expected, once more blocking his exit. He brings his arms up to guard, making fists with his hands and his elbows close to protect as much of his torso and face as he can. 

Her eyes are harsh, taking in his every move and she slashes forward. The knife hits, slicing through his shirt and through to the skin on his arms, making him wince at the sting of the cuts. Blood begins to well up along the wounds and he can feel it sliding wetly down to his elbows. 

Sylvain fights through the pain, throwing out a side jab to her face before she can fully pull away from him. It hits her solidly, knocking her head to the side with the force of his punch.

She grunts in pain, staggering back a few more steps. She glares at him, wiping away the blood that comes from her mouth from his hit. But he doesn't feel safe advancing just yet. Her eyes are still sharp and focused and he has no clear advantage just yet. He definitely hit her good, but she hasn't worn herself out and if he doesn't incapacitate her somehow she'll just keep coming after him. 

"You're putting up more of a fight than I expected, Gautier." She says, giving him a grin that shows her bloodied teeth. He tenses hearing his name fall unexpectedly from her lips. Somehow she'd already known who he was “This has been fun, but too bad you’ll be dead soon.”

"What are you attacking me for?!" Sylvain asks incredulously, more than a little confused by this altercation. She might know who he is but he’s never seen this woman before. Unless... "I haven't slept with you before, have I?" 

If she's some jilted lover of his then his past sure has decided to come back and bite him in the ass at the most inopportune moment. Though, to be honest, he doesn't remember a lot of the woman he's slept with. They were all a means to an end and while some of them were more than okay for a one night fling, some have always gotten a little too attached. 

Her face morphs into confusion, looking a little affronted by his question. Oh, so not a past lover of his it seems. Which leaves him with more questions than answers. Why is she after him if not for some weird form of revenge? This isn't just some random attack if she knows him by name.

"You really are full of yourself." She comments, widening her stance and tightening her grip on her dagger. She looks like she's about to charge again and Sylvain braces himself, getting ready to leap out of the way as soon as she attacks. "But I'm done with this conver-"

Her words cut off abruptly, with a sudden gush of air from her lungs and the widening of her eyes. Sylvain frowns in confusion, watching as she takes a few stumbling steps forward. Her grip loosening on the dagger so it clatters to the ground. He backs up a little more, pressing his back against the wall, unsure of what has suddenly happened to her. 

Her eyes lock with his, and he can see a conflict of emotion play through her blue eyes. Rage, sadness, and determination play through before her eyes go blank and she drops to the ground. A knife lodged deep into her back and the beginnings of blood beginning to bloom along the back of her frock.

Sylvain blinks in confusion for a moment too long, before footsteps coming down the alley alert him back to the danger he might still be in. He glances up and he meets Felix's stormy expression. Felix is quite the sight to see, washed in the light from just outside the alleyway with his cloak flared out behind him in a facsimile of an angel coming to Sylvian’s rescue. He’d been so focused on her that he’d completely missed when Felix had stepped into the mouth of the alleyway.

"Oh, thank the goddess." He breaths out a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging as his heart slowly starts to calm down. He pushes away from the wall, taking in a steadying breath. "Thanks for saving me."

"I leave you alone for two seconds." Felix growls with a glare, his eyes a dark whiskey color in his anger, before his eyes travel down to the girl. His dominant hand comes to rest on the hilt of his sword still secured around his waist. "Secure her dagger." He orders, motioning to where it has clattered down next to her.

If she's still alive there's a possibility that she might try to reach for it once their guards are down, Sylvain realizes once Felix's words fully reach him. He'll have to be cautious as he approaches but there's no way that she'll get too far to hurt him with Felix standing guard. 

Sylvain steps a bit closer to her body, eyeing her warily, looking for any signs of motion from her. He grabs up her dagger, his hands slick with his own blood making it hard to grasp. But eventually, he can grasp a hold of it and once he has it he backs away a few more steps away from her just to be sure. 

Felix holds steady for a moment before he drops his hand down from his sword and he kneels next to the woman. He holds a hand out under her nose, feeling for any sign of breath coming from her. There's a small moment of silence between the two of them before Felix pulls his hand away.

"She's dead." He confirms, reaching up to jerk his dagger back from her body. It's coated thickly with blood, and Sylvain has to turn his head away or he'd lose the small lunch they had before entering the city. It's one thing to see his blood staining his hands, it's another to see it come from someone he'd just witnessed getting murdered. He completely understands that Felix did what he had to do to protect him - and by protecting him, securing his full payment - but, even though this woman attacked him, it's not like he wanted to see her hurt because of him.

When Sylvain looks back, Felix is cleaning off his dagger with the woman's frock before he slides it once more back into its sheath along his belt. The swordsman glances once more back up at Sylvain, and his face is a little less angry than it was before. "What'd you do to make her attack you?"

Sylvain sputters, more than a little insulted. "Me?!" He cries, gritting his teeth to stop the anger from coming forth. Felix only saw the tail end of that fight, and like Felix said when they first met Sylvain's reputation precedes him. Even he'd be suspicious finding himself alone with a girl in some dark alleyway. All of his trysts have always been consensual, he's had more than enough rumors about him going around that he has no idea what Felix must think of him. "I was just trying to help her. She'd dropped some stuff and looked like she needed help; I was just trying to be nice. I didn't realize she was going to try and kill me!"

He'd perhaps been a little too defensive in his tone, but Felix seems to take his words for the truth that they are. Felix's frown deepens and he straightens back up. "Must have been trying to rob you." He theorizes, and his eyes seem to soften as they take in the wounds along Sylvain's forearms. "Let's get away from her and take care of those."

As eager as Sylvain had been to stay in the city, he finds he's no longer wanting to remain here for any further length of time. Galatea really has gotten as bad as Felix had told him it had, and while he’s thankful the man is above saying any ‘I-told-you-so’s, doesn’t mean that Felix isn’t at least thinking it. 

"I'm not sure she was trying to just rob me... She knew who I was and seemed very adamant that she had to kill me." Sylvain admits, rubbing the back of his head and wincing when the strands of his hair stick to his blood slicked hands. "Didn't seem like money was much of her thing..."

Felix studies him for a moment before he frowns and stoops down once more. He begins running his hands over the woman's body, patting down her sides, starting from under her arms and trailing down. Sylvain blinks, his own frown tugging at his lips as he watches Felix.

"Ummm..." He begins eloquently. "What are you doing?" He asks, more than a little uncertain over why Felix is doing what he’s doing.

A huff sounds from Felix and Sylvain is shot yet another glare. "What does it look like? I'm searching for something, idiot."

His hand pats along something that crinkles in the woman's frock and Felix makes a small sound of victory. He locates a pocket in the many folds of the dress and pulls out a crumpled up piece of paper. Felix stands back up once more and carefully unfolds the paper, taking a moment to read it over before he hands it over to Sylvain.

"Found out why she was after you."

Sylvain glances down at the piece of paper and feels his blood run cold in his veins. Well, that certainly does make a lot more sense now… But also opens up another sleuth of questions that whirl around in his head.

"We need to get out of the city immediately." Felix's voice cuts through and restarts Sylvain's brain into working once more.

"Yup. The faster the better." He agrees, taking the paper from Felix and stuffing it once more into his pocket. He staggers past Felix until he's out of the alleyway once more and Felix rushes to join up with him. 

They get on the horses as fast as they can, no longer bothering to walk them through the city. All the while, that piece of paper seems to burn a hole through Sylvain’s leg. 

Someone’s just placed a hefty bounty on his head. 

✽------✽------✽

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I couldn't finish more of this in time, but more will be posted as I finish it!  
> Let me know your thoughts down below!


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